


something rich and strange

by starr_falling



Category: Adventures of Tintin (2011), Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Community: smallfandombang, GFY, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_falling/pseuds/starr_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Captain Archibald Haddock expected to fish out of the sea was a mermaid. Especially, not one that turned out to be a handsome and charmingly curious lad.</p>
<p>Tintin was curious about the world above, but this was not how he had imagined seeing it; caught in a net and dragged aboard a ship like a fish. And he never imagined a human could be as compelling as the Captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something rich and strange

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [smallfandombang](http://smallfandombang.livejournal.com/). Title is from _The Tempest_ by William Shakespeare.
> 
> And don’t forget to check out the stunning [Artwork](http://radishwine.tumblr.com/post/116485494057/nobody-ever-thinks-theyre-going-to-draw-mermaid) by [radishwine](http://radishwine.livejournal.com/)!

Captain Archibald Haddock emerged from his cabin into the light of false dawn, only to see a bunch of sailors hanging over the portside midship instead of at their proper stations getting ready to catch the morning tide.

“Mr. Nestor!” He yelled for his first mate.

“Aye, aye, Captain!” The response came from the quarterdeck. At least one of his crew has remembered their duty.

“What in the blue blistering barnacles are they doing!” Haddock demanded as he joined Nestor at the wheel.

“Tom spotted something caught in a fishing net, sir. He swears up and down that it is a mermaid,” Nestor replied, voice dry.

“Ack, why is that fool still on me ship?” Haddock implored the universe.

“Because Allan has a strange attachment to the lad and he’s too good of a bosun to get rid of just yet.” Nestor answered.

Haddock didn’t roll his eyes, but it took far too much willpower for that early in the morning. “Tell those fools to get back to work. And have someone pull up the net, we could do with a bite of something fresh.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Nestor strode forward calling out orders that sent the men scrambling. Haddock watched with satisfaction as they quickly prepared to sail; his men could be ridiculous at times, but they were the best crew around nonetheless. Even if there were a few he wouldn’t trust not to stab him in the back at the first opportunity.

Shouts from the main deck brought the bustle to a halt again. Haddock growled to himself and headed that way. What had the damn fools done now? As he approached his view was blocked by his men, but he could hear something thumping against the deck and there was an occasional flash of fin.

“Ten thousand thundering typhoons!” Haddock roared. “Why are ye —”

His men parted at his roar, finally giving him a clear view of the creature on the deck. He stopped short in astonishment. For there, before his very own eyes, was what could only be a mermaid.

The creature was near as long as the height of a man, with a thick powerful tail that was thrashing madly. But above the waist the shape changed, if not the color. That was definitely a man’s torso, and a set of arms clawed at the net still wrapped around it. And the face, though the same orange color as the rest of the creature, was that of a human’s.

Though Haddock had never seen man nor woman with such teeth. Each one was a sharp fang, and looked as deadly as a shark’s. Its eyes were dark, and unlike a shark’s, they were not flat, but possessed of a spark of intelligence. And it was hissing and spitting furiously as it twisted and flailed about.

There was a long moment where no one moved, too stunned by the existence of the fey creature to know what to do. Haddock shook off his stupor and strode forward.

“Cut it loose, lads,” he bellowed, pulling out his own knife. The mermaid—or perhaps merman? For there was surely a lack of breasts—thrashed harder, clearly not understanding their intent.

Several of the boys were tossed aside before they could do anything, more knocked down by the great tail before they even reached it. Haddock would despair of his crew, but even he had no experience with such a strange happening. Still, he couldn’t help but shake his head at their foolishness.

Haddock put his knife back in his belt and approached the flailing tail cautiously. He waited until he had the lay of the movement, then darted forward and grabbed it, just above the tail fin. He immediately hauled upwards, lifting near half the merman off the deck and robbing it of any leverage, absently noting the creature was slick with blood as well as water. He got a face full of pale fin, but he could still see a couple of the older lads pile on, pinning its arms so the others could finally start sawing at the ropes that bound it.

Nestor and Allan both pushed forward to wrap their arms about the tail Haddock was holding. He was sore glad as the merman was quite strong, the muscles under the scales undulating wildly. Thankfully, it was the work of but minutes to cut the waterlogged ropes away.

“Arright, boys, let it down gently,” Haddock commanded once the last of the net came away. Those pinning it down scrambled away quickly while they lowered the still thrashing tail to the deck. Haddock leapt away, dancing backward out of the tail’s reach. Nestor easily cleared out as well, but Allan was caught about the shins. He went down hard and landed squarely on the end of the tail, wringing a hoarse cry from the merman.

Allan rolled off quickly, but the damage was done. The merman was finally still, eyes rolled up in its head and body limp. They all stood staring at the strange sight, no sound to be heard but the sea and the wind. Haddock approached slowly, prepared to leap back if it gave a sign of life.

The creature was even stranger looking now that he could see all of it. The thickly muscled tail was scaled, but at the waist the skin became smoother, though it never varied in shade. The creature was covered in crisscrossing welts, though the worst seemed to be right near the tail fin. It probably hadn’t helped to have Allan land on it. Haddock crouched at the merman’s side and cautiously searched for a pulse at the neck. The skin was warmer than he’d expected, but the pulse was in the same familiar place—steady, if a bit fast.

Next he picked up one of the merman’s hands, marveling at their strange configuration. The nails were longer than he’d ever seen on a man, and came to a keen point. His men were lucky that none of them had caught the edge of one. Between the fingers were fleshy webs, and from wrist to elbow of the outer edge, the forearm flared out in a hard, blade like fin, the edge a brilliant blue.

“Cap, uh, Captain?” Tom shuffled forward nervously. “Is it really a mermaid?”

“Aye, that it appears to be. Though, it seems more man than maid,” Haddock murmured.

“What do we do with it now?” Allan questioned. He glared at the creature, but given the bruises he was likely sporting, Haddock didn’t really blame him.

“You and Tom take it to Calculus and have the Professor patch it up.” Haddock placed the merman’s arm back down gently, then stood and raised his voice. “The rest of ye get back to work! The tide’s nearly turned and we’ve places to be!”

“You heard the Captain,” Nestor called out. “Quit your lollygagging and get to it!” The men dispersed quickly, shouts of “Aye, aye, Captain,” called over their shoulders.

“I’ll be in my cabin. Let me know when Calculus has the lad patched up.” Nestor nodded as Haddock made his way across deck. He needed a drink and some time to think.

* * *

As much as he might’ve liked to get drunk and forget their morning catch, Haddock had work to do. He was busy examining a map to decide which route they’d be taking when there was a brisk knock on the door.

“Enter,” he called, not bothering to look up.

“Captain, you wished to be informed when our — guest — was seen to,” Nestor joined him at his desk.

Haddock sighed as he straightened. “Aye, that I did. Has it awoken?”

“Nay, though Calculus says his wounds are not fatal.” Nestor paused, as if picking his next words carefully. “He did say something odd though.”

“The Professor frequently says something odd, I would expect no less when speaking of something as strange as a creature out o’ myth.” Haddock replied.

“Aye, Captain. But this was strange even for Calculus. He said the lad had lost his tail, and now had legs.”

“Hmm, that is strange, though I’ve heard tale that mermaids can sometimes walk upon land when they’re hunting men to drag down into the depths. I always took it for drunken nonsense, like any other fairy story.”

“It seems we must reassess our idea of what is possible,” Nestor said.

“So it would seem.” Haddock was silent, lost in contemplation for a moment. Then he stood and headed towards the door. “Ready about, heading due East. I think I’ll go check on our passenger meself.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Nestor followed him out, heading across deck calling out orders as Haddock headed below deck. It didn’t take long to reach the tiny cabin set aside as the infirmary.

Professor Calculus was mumbling nonsense to himself as he puttered around the still unconscious merman. Odd or not, Calculus was correct—where before there had been one long, muscled tail, now were two well formed legs, ending in feet just like any man’s. More arresting was the color, pale as milk, making the welts stand out all the more.

Stepping closer, Haddock could see that the nails and webbing had likewise vanished, replaced with ordinary fingers and nails. There was no evidence of the blade fins, and the hair on its— _his_ —head appeared completely normal if astonishingly ginger.

Haddock wondered if he pried open his mouth, would he find flat human teeth? Best not to try, he didn’t fancy losing a finger if he was wrong and the lad woke and objected to his treatment. He was also tempted to move the cloth placed across the lad’s waist, to see if he was truly a man now indeed, but didn’t feel right about taking such liberties.

“Ah, Captain, I see you’ve come to check on our marvel,” Calculus said as he turned and finally noticed Haddock. He spoke just a shade too loudly as always. “Isn’t he amazing! To think, a real live mermaid. Or perhaps merman would be more accurate. Well, more man than mer at the moment, but still! This is the most amazing scientific discovery of our age! Perhaps of all time. Just imagine what all the papers will say when —”

“Calculus,” Haddock interrupted, he had no patience for the Professor’s ramblings. “Cut the chatter and tell me how bad his wounds are.”

“I’m aware it’s a little messy but I assure you I always groom every day, even if my fellow shipmates do not.”

“I don’t care about yer grooming — His WOUNDS! How are his wounds!” Haddock yelled, trying to avoid strangling the man.

“Ah, well why didn’t you just ask,” Calculus said cheerfully as he turned back to the merman.

Haddock grit his teeth and fisted his hands to avoid wrapping them around Calculus’ neck.

“He has a number of lacerations all over his body, though they are concentrated on his arms and legs.” Haddock nodded, it wasn’t surprising the rope had cut him given the way he had been thrashing. The legs on the other hand, were unexpected. “His ankles seem to have suffered the worst of it, and the right one seems to be sprained, possibly even fractured.”

“What about the legs? Where did those come from?” Haddock stood across from Calculus, the merman—could he even still be called a merman with no fish tail?—between them on the table.

“Eggs? What eggs?” the Professor asked.

“LEGS! WHY DOES HE HAVE LEGS!” Haddock bellowed.

“Ah, that is curious, is it not? I’ve absolutely no idea,” Calculus laughed in delight. Haddock gripped the table to keep his hands away from the infuriating man. “The fins and other fish-like characteristics simply faded away as if they had never been. I can’t explain it.”

A groan interrupted whatever Haddock might have said. They both glanced down at the merman. His face was scrunched up as his eyelids began to flutter. It was only a moment before he started blinking, and he groaned again. One hand came up to rub at his head, eyes finally staying open for more than a second.

“Morning, lad.” Haddock said, watching the merman’s eyes. They focused with amazing speed, going from confused to studying him intently almost instantly. He surged upwards, but fell back with another groan.

“Easy there,” Haddock placed one hand on the man’s chest. “You’re a bit rough, lad. Might want to take it slow.”

The merman’s eyes narrowed distrustfully. “Whe—” he coughed, then cleared his throat, but his voice was still a croak when he spoke again. “Where am I? Why have you brought me here? Who are you?”

“Those are some mighty fine questions. And I’d be more ‘n’ happy to answer them, as long as ye are willing to return the favor.” Calculus fetched a cup of water while Haddock was speaking, and offered it to the merman. He took it gingerly, giving it the most suspicious look Haddock had ever seen bent on a drink. Need overcame caution in the end and after a moment he drank.

“Thank you,” he said once he had finished. Calculus nodded but wisely left the talking to Haddock. “I suppose it would be a fair trade, an answer for an answer.”

“Right then,” Haddock pulled a stool over to take a seat. Perhaps the lad would be less intimidated if Haddock wasn’t looming over him. “First things first. What’s yer name lad? I be Captain Archibald Haddock. This here is Professor Cuthbert Calculus . And ye are in what passes for the infirmary of the _Unicorn_ , finest ship in the West Indies.”

“My name is Tintin.” The aforenamed Tintin carefully levered himself up on his elbows. “Why have you brought me here?”

Haddock could hardly blame him for his suspicions, though it grated. “We found ye caught in a fisher’s net this morn. I confess when I ordered ye hauled up, I thought ye was a fish. I certainly didn’t expect a living, breathing myth.”

Tintin’s brow wrinkled in confusion, his nose scrunching up in a way that Haddock refused to call adorable. “Myth? I don’t understand.”

“Merfolk are legends, ones I’d not thought had a scrap of truth to ‘em. I don’t think anyone aside of children and drunkards truly believes yer people exist.” Haddock shifted forward, watching Tintin’s face intently. It was obvious this was news to the lad, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “How exactly did ye come to be caught in that net?”

“Ah,” Tintin flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I’m afraid it’s no great tale. I was merely curious about your people and swam too close to a boat yesterday. I was foolishly paying more attention to what the men were doing than where I was swimming. I was thoroughly entangled in the, the net before I realized what was happening.

“They tried to haul me aboard, but I put up enough of a struggle that they eventually abandoned the net and me.”

“Hmm, if they were local fishermen, they like didn’t have enough men to strong arm ye.” Haddock spoke more to himself.

“Well, I thank you for freeing me from the net, but I really must be going. If you will show me the way back to water, I’ll be on my way.” Tintin said after a long moment of silence.

“Aye, I can do that lad,” Haddock replied. “Though it might not be the best of ideas.”

Tintin tensed but his voice was still level and light. “Oh, and why is that, Captain Archibald Haddock?”

“It’s just Haddock, or Captain, or even Captain Haddock if ye feel the need to be formal.” Haddock waved his hand dismissively. “And in case ye haven’t noticed, ye’re a wee bit banged up. I don’t know how ye fair against sharks normally, but I wouldn’t think it a good idea to go against them with fresh wounds and while ye are too weak to even sit up properly.”

An angry flush spread across Tintin’s face, up to his ears and down his neck. Haddock didn’t bother to stop himself from looking to see just how far down his chest it went. “I suppose you have a point, Captain.” Tintin’s voice was clipped. “What do you intend to do with me in the meantime?”

“I don’t intend to _do_ anything with ye.” Haddock sighed. “Ye’re welcome to leave now if ye like, otherwise ye can stay here until ye’ve recovered.

“I don’t care what ye do in that time, as long as ye don’t disrupt the running of me ship. If ye’re still curious, Calculus would no doubt be willing to answer yer questions, though I warn ye, he’s like to ask as many of ye.”

“Thank you,” Tintin managed to sound appropriately gracious, though he was still tense and unhappy looking. “That is a fair enough trade.”

“It’s settled then.” Haddock huffed as he stood to leave; he did have actually duties to attend to. He turned back just before leaving. “Ah, nearly forgot. The professor is near deaf as a post, so ye might want to speak up.”

Haddock made his escape quickly before he could find out what mangled message Calculus thought he had heard.

* * *

Tintin came out of his conversation with Professor—was that a name or a title? He thought perhaps a title, like Captain appeared to be—far more confused than going in. The Professor was perhaps a bit daft as well as deaf, but certainly kind. He had patiently answered every one of Tintin’s questions—or at least what he thought Tintin had asked—and was eager to learn whatever Tintin would say of himself and his people.

But Tintin would not let himself be lulled into lowering his guard. The Professor might be harmless, but the Captain was not. The human was large and burly and Tintin had seen at least three things he recognized as human weapons on his person. Who knew how many more were hidden in the folds of his clothing.

And that was another thing to think about. Why did humans wear clothing? What was the point? And why was the Captain’s dress so different from the Professor’s, or the other humans he’d seen before passing out? He’d been unable to get an answer from Calculus, instead receiving a rather confusing treatise on something called bowling.

Tintin had to admit the answers had all been interesting, even if not particularly illuminating what he wanted to know. Still he had more knowledge of the world above than he’d had before, and that was a fine thing. Now, if only he could get safely back to the water. If what the Captain and the Professor had claimed was true, likely the only reason more of his kind hadn’t been capture by the humans was the disbelief in their existence.

And while he truly did like Calculus, he did not quite trust him yet, and could not risk being brought before the papers—whatever those were—to serve as proof of such existence. The Professor seemed to mean well, but Tintin had heard too many tales of humans fishing for merfolk to take the risk that they would all be so harmless.

Once the Professor was occupied with something on the other side of the room and turned his back to Tintin, he carefully slipped off the table. He had to bite his lip to contain the cry the pain in his—feet? Yes, that was the proper word—tried to wring from him. He stood there, he knew not how long, swaying and gripping the table behind him to remain upright as the edges of his vision darkened.

Finally, he steadied. The pain, though not gone, receded somewhat and he carefully stepped forward. For a moment he thought his legs would crumple beneath him, but they bore his weight.

He slowly, step by painful step, crossed the small space to the door. A look over his shoulder showed Calculus was still occupied. He poked his head out to assess the next room.

It was much larger, filled with many strange things he could not identify. There were also more humans there, but none too close. With any luck, they’d remain occupied with whatever they were doing and he would remain unseen.

His progress was slow and painful, and he had to make more than one stop. But finally he came to an opening in the ceiling through which he could see the sky. There was a strange—growth?—slanting down from the top of the opening to the floor he was standing on. He could only assume it was meant to be ascended to leave the ship.

He laboriously raised one foot and set it up on the first raised section of the growth. He took a deep breath then shifted his weight to that foot, holding onto the side of the growth near his waist tightly before raising his second foot. Agony lashed through him, robbing him of breath. The ankle carrying his weight turned, sending him crashing down.

His sight wavered, darkness rolling across his vision as he struggled to breathe. Everything ached, but it paled compared to the pain screaming from his ankle and the ribs on the side he’d landed on. He could do nothing more than lay insensate and hope he remain undiscovered.

A hope that was dashed when he was finally able to open his eyes and see again. Crouched before him was a human, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He seemed smaller than the other humans he’d seen before and his face was devoid of the hair the others sported. Tintin wondered vaguely in the back of his mind what that might mean.

“Are you alright, mister?” The human asked. His accent was different than the two men he had spoken to earlier—not that their speech had sounded all that similar to each other—and he spoke slowly and precisely, as if concerned he would be misunderstood.

“Yes, thank you. I’m fine.” Tintin could not stifle a wince as he tried to move, setting his head to throbbing in time with his ankle. “Well, perhaps not completely fine.”

He tried to push himself back to his feet, but could only manage to prop himself up enough to relieve the pressure on his side.

“Here, let me help you,” the human offered, holding out his hands. Tintin considered him, but in the end, he really had no choice. He could not stay there and it would appear he would not be moving on his own, so he nodded his assent.

“I am the ship’s cabin boy, Chang,” the human said as he levered Tintin to his feet. It was no easy task, and for a moment Tintin thought his weight would drag Chang down on top of him.

“I’m Tintin,” he replied once they were upright. Chang, who was even smaller than Tintin had realized, slipped a hand around his waist and pulled Tintin’s arm over his shoulders.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Tintin,” Chang said and patiently waited for Tintin’s breathing to steady before they proceeded upwards. “I have never met a mermaid before.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Chang,” Tintin replied, wondering what exactly mister meant. “And you are only the third human I have ever met.”

There was much less speaking and much more panting as they continued to climb. The going was even slower than when he’d been walking alone, but he was not deluded enough to think he could manage on his own from there. But perhaps the Captain had been honest when he said Tintin was free to leave if he wished, as Chang was not trying to stop him. Indeed, if he wished to keep him aboard the ship, all he need do was stop helping.

After what seemed an inexorably long time, they reached the opening and were finally outside. They took only a few steps to clear the opening before slumping to the floor as Tintin’s legs gave out again. Thankfully, though small, Chang proved to be strong enough that their descent was rather more controlled than his last.

For a long time he sat with Chang, trying to recover his breath, eyes closed and head tipped back. The light streaming from the sky was brighter than he had ever seen while in the sea and warmed his skin pleasantly. Air moved gently across his skin, much like the currents of the ocean, keeping him from becoming overly warm. It was far more pleasant than his other experiences on the ship so far.

At least, until he became aware of an itching sensation, a sort of prickling of his skin. Opening his eyes, Tintin looked around, and realized he was back where he had started, when they had first brought him on the ship. There were many humans about, doing incomprehensible things. Many of them were yelling to each other or singing. And many of them were looking right at Tintin.

Tintin shifted uncomfortably. While most of those staring merely seemed curious, a few looked at him with suspicion, or worse speculation. Though he would have liked longer to recover, his skin itched with the need to go. He tried to rotate his ankle, and nearly swooned with pain again.

“Hmm, Chang, if you might help me,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I don’t believe I shall be able to stand alone.”

“Of course, Mister Tintin.” Chang nimbly levered himself up before gripping Tintin’s arms and helping him up as well. He resumed his place under Tintin’s shoulder, taking the weight off his bad leg. “Where to now?”

“To the water please,” Tintin waved at the nearest side of the ship, beyond which the ocean lay. Tintin had never seen it from the outside before, and marveled at just how different it looked. He had always know the ocean was large, but only now, seeing nothing else as far as he could see in any direction, did he truly understand.

Chang dutifully helped him over to the side, but cast Tintin a dubious look. “How are you going to get down? You will not be able to manage a ladder with your injuries.”

Tintin had no idea what a ladder was and decided to defer to Chang’s judgment. It hardly mattered anyhow. “I will simply go over the side.” Tintin eyed the wall before him, uncertain how he was going to get up and over it.

“I do not think that is a wise idea, Mister Tintin,” Chang’s voice interrupted his planning. The human was looking down at the ocean. “We are high above the water. If you do not hit it right, you could be very hurt.”

“But how could that be, when it is not frozen?” Tintin asked, trying not to sound too skeptical and insult Chang, whom he was beginning to think fondly of.

Chang shrugged. “I do not know, I only know it is true. After Henry fell from the poop last year, he had many bruises all down his side, and was very dazed. Professor Calculus said he had a concussion.”

Tintin didn’t know what exactly that meant but with the other injuries he had he could not afford to be dazed as well. He was already going to have a hard time dodging any sharks that might be in the area.

“Is there any way I might be lowered down?” Tintin asked, wondering if the Captain’s lack of concern over his leaving had more to do with knowing how difficult it would be to manage.

“Hmm, I don’t think we could lower you in a longboat, that would take too many hands away from their duties.” Chang glanced around thoughtfully. “But maybe we could tie some rope around you. I think I could lower you with help of one other.”

Tintin grimaced, rubbing at one of the welts on his chest. That did not sound pleasant at all.

“Ye could do that,” Captain Haddock said, from directly behind them. Tintin whipped around—listing to the side before Chang steadied him—chagrined to realize how close the man had gotten without his noticing. “But I doubt ye’d enjoy it much.

“Of course, if ye’re willing to wait until ye’ve healed up a bit, you’ll have a much easier time of it.”

Tintin leaned against the side of the ship’s wall and considered his options. He still felt uncomfortable being amongst the humans, but he _did_ want to learn more about them. It would be a shame to leave without even trying—he couldn’t really count the conversation with Professor Calculus as that left him with far more questions than answers. And though he was loathe to admit it, even to himself, he really was in no shape to make it home in his condition.

“And you’ll really just let me go. You won’t take me to the ‘reporters’?” He could not help but add suspiciously.

“I’ll no make you meet anyone you do not wish,” the Captain said, eyes grave. “Calculus means no harm, but for as brilliant as his mind is, he is very naive. I’ll impress the importance of keeping their gobs shut to the crew.”

“Will they truly be able to keep quiet?” Tintin had to ask, even if it seemed rude to question the Captain when he all but promised their silence.

“Aye, they can.” The Captain hesitated a moment before adding. “When they’re not drunk. But more than one drunk sailor has claimed to see a mermaid afore. No one’ll pay ‘em any mind without ye there in front of them, wearing yer fins.”

It was not as reassuring as Tintin wished, but staying really was the only viable choice. Already weariness dragged at his limbs and he wasn’t even back in the water yet. The odds he’d make it safely home in his current state were quite small.

“I suppose I shall accept your hospitality, then,” Tintin sighed and stood straight. He swayed alarmingly for a moment before Chang was there to steady him once more. “Thank you.”

“Ye’re dead on yer feet, lad,” Haddock said. “Can ye get him to bed on yer own, Chang?”

“Aye, Captain.” Chang responded. “Where should I put him?”

Captain Haddock glanced around them before he started shouting, “Quit yer lollygagging! There’s work to be done, or do ye want me to think ye are neglecting yer duties?

“Best take him to my cabin,” he said in a quieter voice as he turned back to them. “Lad’ll need a real berth if he’s any hope to heal and I wouldn’t trust this lot not to bother him in the infirmary.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Chang said, helping support Tintin as they began walking again. They walked across the floor to a part of the ship that rose high above them, skirting the opening they had emerged from earlier.

“And find him some clothes while ye’re at it!” the Captain called after them.

“Aye, aye!” Chang called back as they reached the wall. There was a closed door that led into a narrow hallway. It didn’t take long for them to make their way to the last door, though they had to shuffle in an awkward sideways stumble.

The room they entered was not terribly large, but appeared well appointed. Tintin didn’t manage to take in much of it, as the darkness he’d been fighting since first standing rose up and claimed him as soon as he lay down his head.

* * *

Haddock was not avoiding his cabin. That would be ridiculous. It was, after all, _his_ cabin. He and he alone could come and go as he pleased in there.

And yet, it was nigh on dinner time, and he hadn’t been back there since he’d sent their unusual passenger to his own berth.

An image of Tintin as he’d appeared that afternoon flashed before his eyes. Lean muscles, pale skin flushed and shiny with a sheen of sweat, and truly a man indeed.

He had made a most distracting sight, and not only for Haddock judging by the leers more than one of the crew were sporting. And neither Haddock nor his crew could afford to be distracted. These water were dangerous, even without considering the increased number of sightings of the _Red Rackham_ each time they came to port. No doubt Sakharine still held a grudge against him and would be eager to attack the _Unicorn_.

He certainly hadn’t forgotten their last meeting. He might’ve come out the better, but he would still enjoy making the scurvy dog pay dearly for the damage to the _Unicorn_.

Still, they were as prepared as they could be and they had their own prey to mind. His gut told him the Spanish galleon they’d been chasing was close to hand. Another day, maybe two, and they’d have her.

But in the meantime, there was still a comely merman in his berth, and he was a little lost as what to do about that.

Well, what to do that wasn’t likely to get him punched, leastwise.

“Have Chang bring dinner to my quarters,” he said once he couldn’t take another moment of Nestor’s pointed looks. “Make sure there is enough for two if the passenger has not already been fed.”

“Aye, Captain,” Nestor drawled as Haddock strode away with as much dignity as he could.

“And tell Chang I need a hammock, as well!” he shouted over his shoulder.

The crew hailed him with queries and updates as he passed. He tried not roll his eyes when near half of them winked salaciously. Or what they thought was salaciously. He’d have to talk to Allan about dragging Tom to a whore house, and make sure he got his dick wet the next time they were ashore, if he wasn’t going to take the lad in hand himself.

Haddock shivered and rubbed his eyes trying to banish that image from his mind. He really didn’t want to know what his crew got up to in their free time. He was their captain, not their bloody mother!

He stopped short just inside his cabin. Tintin was stretched out on his berth, still as naked as he’d been earlier. There was a light sheet at the end of the bunk barely covering the lad’s feet, and a pile of clothes laid on the table nearby.

“Thundering typhoons!” Haddock exclaimed under his breath. Chang had clearly tried to follow his orders, but the lad must have passed out on him.

He was struck again by how well formed as a man the strange creature was. He’d been a fair bit shorter than Haddock but he seemed strong, with long, lean lines. His eyes, when not dulled by pain, sparkled like the sea he’d come from. And his ginger hair shone in the light, a single tuft sticking near straight up from his forehead.

And he had a bloody fine arse.

Haddock shook himself before striding forward. He focused his eyes on the wall as he drew the sheet back up the merman’s chest. He turned sharply away once his task was done, before he gave in to the temptation to see if Tintin’s skin was as soft as it looked.

He sat at his desk and forced himself to work on his log, noting their current heading. It wasn’t long before a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” Haddock called, eyes sweeping over the merman’s form to see if he had been awakened. The lad didn’t so much as shift as Chang brought in a try and set it down, then dropped a bundle of cloth in the corner. The boy left without a word, though Haddock didn’t miss the peek he took at their passenger.

Haddock debated whether or not to wake Tintin but decided the lad needed rest more than food. If he slept through the night, he’d make sure to feed him a good breakfast on the morrow.

Haddock set aside his log, and pulled out _La Princesse de Montpensier_ to keep him occupied as he ate. But try as he might to focus on the familiar words, his attention kept straying back to Tintin.

“Billions of blue blistering barnacles,” Haddock admonished. “Ye’re acting no better than a milksop with his first crush! Get ahold of yerself!”

Haddock turned to face a porthole and began the book again from the beginning. It took a fair amount of time, but he was once again absorbed in the story, barely remembering to occasionally snag a bite of food. So deep was his concentration, that the sudden groan took him by complete surprise.

“Thundering typhoons!” he yelled as he leapt out of his chair.

“Wha?” Tintin murmured, blurry eyed as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Finally awake, I see,” Haddock sat back down calmly, berating himself for his foolish reaction. “D’ye think ye’re up to eating?”

“Yes, that —” Tintin yawned. “That sounds marvelous.”

“Ye only think that ‘cause ye’ve never had ship fare afore,” Haddock couldn’t help but tease.

“Oh, why is that?” Tintin asked as he pushed himself up further.

“Don’t get up, lad,” Haddock rushed to say. He grabbed the tray in one hand and his chair in the other. It was quick work to set himself beside the bunk and offer Tintin the food. He laughed at the incredulous look on Tintin’s face as he got an eyeful of his dinner.

“It may not be appetizing, but I guarantee it won’t kill ye,” Haddock said.

Tintin didn’t respond, merely picked a bit of hardtack up gingerly and took a bite. Haddock laughed at the horrified look that crossed the lad’s face.

“Are you sure this is actually food?” he asked, regarding it disfavorably.

“Aye, lad, it ‘tis. Not particularly good food, but better than what ye’d find on many ships.” The look of horror that crossed his face was a thing of beauty. Haddock had a hard time holding in his amusement, but he’d already laughed at the lad enough for one evening.

“What were you doing just now, when I woke up?” Tintin asked. Haddock couldn’t tell if it was out of genuine curiosity or if he was just trying not to take note of what he was eating.

“I was reading,” he answered.

“Reading?” Tintin’s face did that adorable scrunch again.

“Aye, reading me book.”

“What is a book?” Tintin asked.

Haddock paused, surprised. He supposed he shouldn’t be though. Not as if paper would last long under water. He stood and retrieved the book before settling back down.

“This is a book,” he said, handing it over.

Tintin hmmed appreciatively as he turned it over and around, then started flipping through the pages. Haddock watched him as he considered how exactly to explain a book to someone who had never heard of one before.

“Those marks are words. They can be written down in a book, like this one, that tell a story or record knowledge, that other people can then read so they will know the story, or learn the knowledge.”

“What a marvelous idea!” Tintin exclaimed. “Like a Lore Master, but better because it can’t yell at you for asking too many questions.”

“Why am I not surprised by that.” Haddock chuckled and shook his head. “So ye pass yer knowledge on orally?”

“Yes, but this would be so much better. The Lore Masters never tell you everything and they pick and choose who to teach at all. With something like books, everyone could learn!”

“Well, everyone that knew how to read at any rate.” Haddock hated to do anything to dash Tintin’s enthusiasm, but neither did he want to lie to him. “Reading’s something that has to be taught, and not everyone has the time or the money to be educated. And books are written by folk that sound much like yer Lore Masters. Not to mention, books cost money. Doesn’t much matter if ye can read if you haven’t the coin for books.”

Tintin studied his face intently, before sweeping his eyes over the room. “You have a fair number of books.”

“Most of them are logs — records I keep of our voyage — rather than books. Maps as well. They’re still not cheap, but easier to come by than most books. The few I have are precious to me.”

“Do you think I could learn? To read, I mean.” Tintin asked eagerly, still gazing reverently at the book he held.

“Mayhap,” Haddock said slowly. “But it takes time, likely more’n it’ll take you to heal up.”

Tintin finally tore his eyes away from the book to look at Haddock. His eyes were narrowed thoughtfully, but all he said was, “I see.”

“Still, it’d be worth asking Calculus about, if you like,” Haddock felt compelled to say. It was strange how the thought of Tintin’s disappointment bothered him. “And in the meantime, I can read to ye.”

“That sounds excellent!” Tintin looked excited by the prospect, though he seemed reluctant to relinquish the book. Haddock couldn’t help but return his bright and eager grin.

He settled more comfortably in his chair and opened the book to the beginning again. Tintin listened avidly as Haddock read, eyes shining with curiosity and wonder. It was a long time before the merman drifted to sleep, not even the scandalous tale able to keep him awake any longer.

Haddock closed the book and set about getting himself ready for sleep. He put the book back on the shelf and turned the lantern low. It didn’t take long to hang the hammock, nor to strip down.

Before turning in, he stopped by the bunk again and stared at his strange guest for far longer than he should have allowed himself. He’d never found much merit in fairy tales, but he had loved to hear them as a lad nonetheless. It was a strange bit of fate that he was living one now.

And much like the poor bastards in the stories, he found himself beguiled by Tintin. He could only hope their story had a better end.

* * *

Tintin had been on the _Unicorn_ for three days and he was entirely sick of lying in bed. It was a new and interesting experience to be sure, and made for a comfortable sleep, but he had never been so inactive in all his life. While the Professor was kind enough to help him learn to read, the man had duties to attend to, so Tintin had much time alone without much to do.

Well, aside from in the evenings when the Captain retired.

Tintin had to admit, if only to himself, that the Captain fascinated him. He was a study in contrasts; he could be heard yelling at his crew throughout the day and yet none of the crew had shown any fear of the man. He insisted he wasn’t fit to teach Tintin to read but didn’t hesitate to answer any of the myriad questions Tintin had about everything. And his voice was warm and comforting as he read to Tintin each night.

If he was entirely honest with himself, his convalescence would irritate him less if he had more time with the Captain.

Tintin put aside the book he had been attempting to decipher and threw back the covers. He moved to sit at the edge of the bed but paused. It was still so strange, to look at himself and see pale-skinned legs where he had always had a vibrant scaled tail. He wiggled his toes, still trying to get used to the strange sensation.

At least most of the wounds had faded. Only his ankle truly bothered him now and it was only a faint echo of what it had been. The Captain had seemed surprised, so Tintin could only surmise humans healed at a slower rate.

Tintin grabbed the trousers next to the bed and carefully slipped them on. He still wasn’t sure why they were necessary but all the humans he’d meet so far had worn them. And the Captain’s face had gone red all over when he’d caught Tintin trying to sneak out of bed without them. Tintin had wondered if perhaps humans could go through their own transformations, but the man had merely blustered and demanded Tintin wear the trousers.

Once they were on, Tintin stripped out of his nightshirt in exchange for the shirt left for him. He did wonder why it was just called a shirt and not a dayshirt. Neither the Captain nor the Professor had been able to explain it to him. Although, it was possible the Professor had misheard him again, as he spent a long time telling Tintin about his favorite desserts. Tintin was still a little unclear on exactly what desserts were, though he gathered they were something you ate.

Properly attired, he pushed himself up. He grimaced as his ankle complained but it held and he was able to keep his feet. He cautiously started to walk across the cabin, his progress slow but steady. After he traversed the length and breadth of the room several times, Tintin considered the door. Strictly speaking, the Captain hadn’t told him he couldn’t leave the cabin.

Before he could decide if he should risk it, the ship lurched suddenly. Tintin’s arms shot out, hands grasping the shelves next to him. He waited several minutes but the ship stayed steady. He straightened up but left one hand holding on as he made his way over to the window—no, the porthole.

From out on the deck, he could faintly hear shouting—the Captain’s voice the loudest—and running feet. Then there was the loudest and most terrible sound he had ever heard. It sounded worse than thunder and so much closer. The entire ship seemed to shake with the sound. Before Tintin could recover, the terrible sound came again. He clapped his hands over his ears, losing his balance as the ship lurched.

Crashing to the floor was painful but the confusion was more so. Tintin wished the Captain was there to tell him what was happening. He considered trying to find the Captain but was unable to regain his feet. Instead he dragged himself over to the porthole.

“Great snakes!” he exclaimed and gripped the sill so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The scene outside was just as strange and disconcerting as the intermittent noise. There appeared to be another ship and it was frighteningly close. The horrible noise sounded again making the other ship lurch and large pieces of it flew off. Then there was another sound, not quite as loud, causing the _Unicorn_ to shake even more violently. Looking out the porthole he could see the sound was accompanied by strange flashes of light and plumes of clouds.

The strange noises continued as the other ship drew even closer. In a matter of moments that seemed to last an eternity, the side of the new ship eclipsed the entire porthole. Tintin was knocked back as the ship listed sharply as the two ships apparently collided.

The loud noise stopped, and was replaced instead by similar if quieter sounds. The yelling—which had never really stopped—was louder in the relative silence, though Tintin still couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. He braced himself in a corner so he didn’t slide as the ship shook and swayed.

Finally, the cacophony died down as the ship gave one final great lurch. Tintin waited several minutes but once it seemed that the ship was sailing regularly again he regained his feet. Looking out the porthole he could see the other ship receding in the distance.

Something about the way it sat in the water seemed off but Tintin wasn’t familiar enough with such things to know what it meant. There were also more clouds rising from it and what looked like flames. Tintin had never seen such a thing before coming aboard the _Unicorn_ and the Professor had had a difficult time explaining it to Tintin. He thought that maybe that many flames wasn’t safe; certainly he had only ever seen small ones before.

Still staring intently out the porthole, he was caught by surprise when the door floor open.

“Tintin,” the Captain called as he stalked into the cabin. “Are ye alright, lad?”

“I’m fine, Captain,” Tintin answered, the sudden relief nearly staggering in its intensity. “Though very confused. What has happened? What was that terrible noise? And what was that other ship doing?”

“Ack, well. That’s a lot of questions, and I’m not sure how much of the answers ye’d understand,” the Captain righted his chair—Tintin hadn’t even noticed it falling with everything else going on—and gestured to the bed as he sat. “D’ye have kings, where ye come from?”

“Yes,” Tintin said, wondering what that had to do with anything. “We are ruled by King Triton.”

“Hmm, all of ye? There aren’t any other rulers?” the Captain questioned.

“No. Why would there be?” Tintin was very curious now, if still confused by how this related to what had happened with the other ship.

“Well, there are dozens of human kings.” Tintin stared at the Captain, trying to comprehend such a thing. He continued speaking before Tintin could gather his thoughts, “And they don’t always get along. That ship was flying Spanish colors, whilst we serve His Majesty, King Charles the Second of England. That makes us enemies.”

“So that was a battle?” Tintin asked, trying to make sense of what had happened in light of this information.

“Aye, ‘twas. And we won.” The Captain stood up and put the chair back behind his desk. “As for the noise, that was our guns. They’re a type of weapon, don’t rightly know how to explain them but I can show ye later. But right now, I need to get back on deck so I can oversee repairs.”

“The ship was damaged?” Tintin asked, something twisting in his chest at the thought.

“Aye, they had guns of their own.” the Captain headed towards the door. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, lad, the _Unicorn_ is the best ship in these waters. We didn’t take too many hits, we’ll soon be fixed.”

Tintin nodded, but the Captain had already left. Tintin pushed the lingering anxiety away, focusing on righting the few items that had been disturbed by the battle. The longer he spent amongst the humans, the more questions he had. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get all the answers he sought.

* * *

It was just after lunch on the day after the battle that Tintin finally couldn’t stand to be confined any longer. He slipped out of the Captain’s cabin, relieved to find the hall empty. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong but he wasn’t sure the Captain would agree with him. The man was oddly protective of him considering they had only just met. It was endearing but now that Tintin was nearly fully healed, it had become stifling.

He had risked coming so close to the human ships because he wanted to know more about humans. As much as he enjoyed speaking to the Captain and the Professor, he was still curious about the other humans on the ship.

Coming out in the open—the deck, the Captain had called it—was relieving. The air, though hot, was fresh with a breeze that brought the familiar scents of the sea. Tintin headed for the closest bit of unoccupied railing. As much as he was enjoying learning about the human world, the sights, scents and sounds of the sea were a comfort, easing something in his chest that he hadn’t even realized was tight.

After a time of simply watching the sea, he turned back to the deck. There was no sign of the Captain—which Tintin didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed about—but there were men everywhere, all busy with something or other. They called to each other as they worked and sang odd, silly songs. Tintin hadn’t expected there to be so many people. And as much as he’d like to talk to each and every one, he was loathe to interrupt their work.

And too, the looks those closest to him shot him weren’t exactly friendly.

Though none of them seemed outright hostile, there were many that seemed suspicious. At least one—Tintin thought he might be younger than the others, though older than the Captain had said Chang was—looked afraid. It was a sobering realization, that someone would fear _Tintin_. He had never considered himself frightening before, but then, he had been afraid of humans before he had met any. Tintin would have to ask someone what stories were told about merfolk. If they were anything like what he’d been told of humans, their recalcitrance would be entirely understandable.

Still, Tintin was keen to learn about the humans and he couldn’t discover everything he wanted to know shut up in the Captain’s cabin. He limped around the deck, looking at everything and trying to connect them to the things the Captain and Professor had told him about the ship. The masts were easily identified, as were the sails, but there were so many things he couldn’t.

He did notice that the longer he stayed on deck, the less attention the men paid him. Hopefully, given enough time, they would lose their wariness. Maybe they would even be willing to talk to him soon.

Well, it would have to be soon or it would be never at all. After all, he was almost healed, so he wouldn’t be there much longer. The thought filled him with unexpected regret and he paused to stare sightlessly over the deck. While his time aboard the ship had not been wholly unpleasant, he had not come aboard under the best of circumstances. He longed to return to the life he knew but there were—things—here he would miss.

His contemplations were disturbed abruptly by a strange voice. It was quite loud and caused Tintin to start violently. He looked around for the speaker, but none of the nearby men were speaking. Listening closer, Tintin realized there were no actually words and the voice was higher pitched and rougher than anything he had heard from a human before.

He followed the sound to the fore of the ship. As he got closer, he could hear a strange scrabbling as well, like something scraping against the deck. A white streak suddenly shout out in front of him. Tintin stumbled back a step, ankle twinging before he managed to regain his balance.

Some sort of small creature was bouncing around his feet, still speaking incomprehensibly. Its body was covered in dirty white hair all over and had brown shining eyes and a little black nose. After a moment it stilled and quieted, sniffing at Tintin’s feet and legs. Then it sat back and looked up at him with its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

“What are you?” Tintin asked as he crouched down for a better look. It stood back up as he sat, a short stubby tail wagging forcefully. Tintin reached out but stilled his hand when the creature backed off some. It regarded Tintin warily, then trotted forward again, sniffing at Tintin’s hand.

Tintin reached out again and again it danced away. It took two more tries before the creature would hold still. Its hair was soft and a bit coarse. Tintin laughed as the creature leaned into his touch and wiggled closer to him.

“You’re certainly bold enough now,” Tintin said as the creature climbed straight into his lap. It didn’t weigh much and seemed as curious about Tintin as he was about it. It sniffed everywhere it could stick its nose and even licked his hands and face.

“Stop, stop,” Tintin laughed as he pushed it down into his lap again. “You have horrible breath my friend.

“What are you?” he asked again.

“That is Snowy.” Tintin looked over to see Chang was standing nearby. The cabin boy sat next to him and offered his hand to Snowy. Snowy sniffed and licked it before allowing Chang to scratch behind its ears, though it stayed in Tintin’s lap. “He is the ship’s dog.”

“Dog?” Tintin asked.

“An animal many people keep as companions. Snowy is a working dog, though. He hunts the rats on the ship.” He continued at the confused look Tintin threw him. “Rats are vermin. They eat our food and foul the water. And they can make you sick if they bite you.”

“So he has an important job protecting us then,” Snowy spoke again, as if to agree. “Do you understand his speech?”

“No, dogs do not speak, just bark,” Chang shrugged, clearly unsure how to explain it.

“I suppose I shall have to ask the Professor,” Tintin mused, scratching under Snowy’s chin.

“Chang!” a voice bellowed from up the deck.

“Coming!” he shouted back. “I must get back to work. But maybe we could play with Snowy after dinner?”

“I would like that,” Tintin said. He watched the boy walk off, glad there was at least one person among the crew that was friendly.

* * *

Haddock had only half his attention on the unloading of the holds; Nestor had the crew well in hand. The rest of his mind was thinking about their fishy passenger. Tintin hadn’t been on the ship long, but Haddock had already gotten used to his presence. It would be strange to try sleeping in his bunk again, without the soft sounds of another’s breath to lull him to sleep.

But Calculus had declared Tintin in good health just that morn. Even the ankle that had seen him limping about the decks was mended. Likely Tintin would be well on his way home before they even left port again.

The sound of barking and laughter caught his attention. There, like his thoughts had summoned him, was Tintin. The ship’s dog was fast on his heels, just as he’d been for days. Haddock couldn’t help but smile at the unlikely pair. They’d been nigh on inseparable since they’d first met; it was all Haddock could do to keep the mangy mutt out of his cabin at night. The poor thing was going to be inconsolable once Tintin was gone, and then he’d like as not need to find a new ship’s dog.

Haddock watched as the two dashed about the deck, Tintin likely asking no end of questions. The crew had warmed up to the lad rather faster than Haddock had expected. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, though, that he wasn’t the only one enchanted by Tintin’s open curiosity.

Even the most superstitious old sea dogs smiled at him now, where they’d insisted he’d bring misfortune when Haddock allowed him to stay aboard. Sacking the _Santa Ana_ had likely helped on that front. Haddock had even heard more than one of the younger lads calling the merman a good luck charm.

Still, Tintin was healed now, so there was no reason for him to stay any longer. Once the ship’s business had been seen to, Haddock would see him safely back into the sea.

The day’s tasks seemed conversely to take forever and no time at all. Before he knew it, all the work was done, and all the lads were ashore save the unlucky few on night watch.

“Tintin!” Haddock bellowed. The merman waved from where he was watching the bustle of the docks and trotted towards him.

“Captain,” Tintin smiled as he joined Haddock. “There are so many people! And so much going on. It’s all so amazing.”

“Aye, that it is, lad.” Haddock said, though all of his attention was on Tintin. “Ye ready to go?”

“Oh, yes! Are we going into the city?” Tintin’s eyes shone brightly in the last light of the day.

“Aye, we’ll sup in town, then we can head out to a little cove I know.” They started descending the gangplank. “Hardly anyone goes there, too rocky for leisure and too small for any other use. No one’ll disturb us there, so ye don’t have to worry about anyone seeing ye change back.”

“Of course,” Tintin’s voice sounded a bit off but he was still smiling brightly when Haddock glanced back at him. “Thank you.”

They were silent as they walked through town. Tintin craned his neck this way and that, trying to see everything at once, but didn’t ask any questions. It wasn’t until they had to stop so a pair of drunks could stagger across their path, that Haddock realized Snowy had followed on their heels.

Haddock side-eyed Snowy. “Mind the mutt, Tintin.” He shook his head when the dog barked in seeming indignation. “I haven’t the time to find a new one afore we leave port.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Tintin mock saluted. He would need to have a word with his men about what they were allowed to teach the lad.

He turned away sharply when he remembered that after tonight it wouldn’t matter.

Despite the melancholy turn of his thoughts, once the silence was broken, the air between them lost its tension. Tintin began pelting him with questions, with barely a pause to allow him to answer. Soon he was laughing as he led the merman into his favorite tavern.

“The Mermaid, really?” Tintin asked drily.

“They serve me favorite whiskey and the food’s not too bad, either.” Haddock shrugged. “And it seemed appropriate.” Tintin shook his head but never lost his smile.

They pushed through to a table in the back, Tintin goggling at the more risqué occupants. He wasn’t surprised when the first question out of Tintin’s mouth was about them. Haddock grimaced his way through the explanation, trying not to be charmed by Tintin’s wide eyes and flushed face.

Clearly he wasn’t the only one to fail at that, as he had to glare more than one wench away from their table. He was more than a little relieved to leave as soon as they’d supped. He was gratified that Tintin was likewise happy to leave as well.

The walk out of town was much more relaxed and the conversation flowed easily between them. It didn’t take long for them to leave the city proper, taking a winding trail down to the coast. Snowy darted ahead of them, only to return and dance about their feet, barking excitedly.

It took more than an hour to reach their destination, but it felt like only minutes. Haddock stood at the top of the cliff looking out at the dark sea. He had loved the sea all his life, and for the first time in his life, he found himself reluctant to return to it.

“Captain?” Tintin’s voice shook him out of his dark thoughts.

“I’m fine, lad,” he said. “This way.”

He led merman and dog down a switchback to the small cove. More rock than sand, the beach was small and all but disappeared at high tide. Haddock stood just above the waterline, resenting the sea for taking his lad away from him.

Tintin stepped up beside him and took his hand without a word. Haddock glanced at him from the corner of his eye but Tintin was gazing at the sea with a pensive frown. They stood that way in silence for a long time. Even Snowy was silent, sitting at their feet.

Finally, Haddock grabbed his courage with both hands and let go. Tintin turned to him as Haddock stepped back but still didn’t speak. Tintin quickly stripped off his clothes, folded them, then handed them to Haddock. Haddock admired him for the last time as the merman stood, completely poised, limned in moonlight.

He was the most beautiful thing Haddock had ever seen, and he knew he would never be so lucky to meet Tintin’s like again in this life.

Tintin hesitated a moment, opening his mouth as if to speak, but held out his hand instead. Haddock took it without hesitation and tossed the clothes behind him as Tintin led him into the waves. They didn’t go far, just enough for the waves to wash over the top of his boots, but he barely noticed.

Haddock shifted his grip to Tintin’s arm, steadying him as he moved to kneel. Once settled, Tintin tugged Haddock down beside him. He couldn’t take his eyes off his lad, entranced by the way the moonlight lit up his eyes. It felt as though they stayed there for eternity, as if nothing existed but each other and the breath between them.

Haddock knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t take this chance, slowly closing the tiny distance between them. Tintin’s lips were smooth and warm and firm beneath his. He could hear and feel Tintin’s breath catch as he pressed into the touch. Haddock only realized he had closed his eyes when he felt the brush of Tintin’s eyelashes upon his cheeks.

Haddock drew back reluctantly but he could feel as Tintin’s skin changed under his hand. Even as he watched, an orange flush, darker in the pale moonlight, flowed up Tintin’s chest. In a blink, he was once again the beguiling merman Haddock’s men had fished from the sea.

Haddock gripped Tintin’s forearm tightly, before letting his hand run up the merman’s arm to his neck. He pressed their foreheads together for a brief moment, before sitting back on his heels, hand trailing down Tintin’s side, over the scaly tail hidden under the waves.

Finally, Tintin pulled away, his tail brushing along Haddock’s side as the merman left him. Haddock couldn’t take his eyes off Tintin as his supple body moved through the waves; he almost seemed to be dancing.

Haddock stood carefully, eyes still fixed on his lad as he backed out of the sea. As soon as he sat upon the beach, Snowy appeared at his side and pressed his little body to Haddock’s, whimpering quietly. Haddock brushed his hand through the dog’s short fur, mind still focused on the last moments with his lad. Brief and chaste though it was, Haddock knew he would remember their kiss for all of his days. He licked his lips but all he could taste was salt. From the sea or his grief, he didn’t know.

The silence was suddenly shattered by a voice from the sea. It was unlike anything Haddock had ever heard before, not the sharp whistles of a dolphin nor the wavering song of a whale. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard and could only be Tintin. Haddock had always scoffed at the tales of sailors being lured to their deaths by a song but he understood it now. The urge to follow his lad back into the waves was almost overpowering.

Beside him, Snowy began howling, mournful cry blending with Tintin’s song. “Aye, I miss him as well,” Haddock pulled the dog into his lap, taking as well as giving comfort.

He didn’t know how long he sat there and listened to Tintin singing. When the song finally stopped, he came back to himself and realized he was stiff and cold through and through.

“Ack, I’m too old fer this,” Haddock muttered as he stood. He ignored the snaps and pops as he stretched, working out the kinks. Once he was a bit more limber he bent to retrieve Tintin’s—the clothes. He held them to his face but could only smell the sea.

“Come on, Snowy,” he croaked and headed for the path back.

Instead of following him, the blasted mutt began barking madly behind him. Haddock grumbled to himself before he stomped back toward the waterline. He only got two steps before he froze at the sight of Tintin carried ashore on the crest of a wave. Haddock stared at him blankly, confused and hopeful.

The receding wave left Tintin beached, long fish tail momentarily revealed as he pushed himself up on his arms. The waves washed over him again, shimmering with reflected moonlight, then retreated once more baring long shapely legs. Tintin quickly pushed himself to his feet, to stand again as a man before Haddock.

“Tintin,” Haddock whispered, afraid to break the silence lest he realize the vision before him was naught but a dream.

“Captain.” Tintin approached him slowly. He stopped with just a breath between them. “I think I should like to return to the ship.”

“Return?” Haddock’s voice was choked.

“If — if that’s alright?” Tintin took Haddock’s hands in his own, pulling him until they were flush together. “There is still so much to learn, to see. And I haven’t even master reading yet.”

“Of course, of course.” Haddock dipped his head until their foreheads were pressed together. “Ye can stay as long as ye like. Ye’ll always have a place on the _Unicorn_ as long as I captain her.”

“Let’s head back, shall we?” This close Haddock couldn’t see his smile, but he could hear it in Tintin’s voice.

“Aye, let’s.” Haddock stepped back reluctantly but never once let go of Tintin’s hand.


End file.
